


Can you guess? Cause someone already did.

by worddumb



Series: Human AU thing [2]
Category: Hermitcraft
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy fluffy angst, Gen, I forgot Xisuma, Oh, She says like, but Iskall and Tango are the most prominently mentioned, do I put False as character tag?, if you can call it that, one or two lines at the end, other hermits are mentioned, sorry turtleman, they are super mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worddumb/pseuds/worddumb
Summary: Just some bonding moments of truth, shared between two idiots, keep scrolling.





	Can you guess? Cause someone already did.

“Okay, so, how many doors do you see?”- they were standing in a dead end of a hallway, sun rays coming through a huge window on the stairway wall. There was dust in the air, giving the place a mysterious feel, lit up not only by 5pm sun, but a yellow antique looking lamp on a barren wall, where natural light didn’t reach. Mumbo looked around, reasonably thinking this was a trick question: “Three?”- he more asked, than stated, noting the mischief in his friends eyes. “Wrong! There’s-“- Grian climbed up, using a small bump in the wall, reaching for an iron handle on the ceiling and yanking it open, a steep staircase unfolding itself to a door, that seemed to lead into the attic- “four!”- he was sprouting the most shit eating grin ever, proud of himself for reasons Mumbo could not phantom. “That has Got to be cheating”- he attempted to pout, his face betraying him completely, an awestruck smile in place instead. Grian ran to the front of the stairs, getting a funky looking set of keys out of his pocket: “Wellcome, to my humble dovecote”- he said, in his best impression of a crusty, pansy old man voice he could manage. “After you”- he dipped in a low bow, like a professional butler- the only things ruining that impression being his loose tucked in red tank top and waist high, loose grey sweatpants. As well as rather well loved snickers. Mumbo felt worry overcome him- he could’ve slipped, and fallen, and he’s injured, and why did he do something so reckless- it probably shown on his face, as Grian stopped clowning and ran up the stairs instead. Right before the door, he stoped, turning back to Mumbo: “Don’t hit your head!”- than started fumbling with the keys, squatting in front of the door, partially obscured by the ceiling. The engineer exhaled, forcing himself to calm down- Grian lived here, he probably did this everyday- and started climbing up as well. It was rather uncomfortable in his dress shoes, but he managed. By that time, the shorter man had finished operation open door and entered his house, sighing happily. 

Hitting his head on the doorframe (seriously, even Grian, who was, like, 5’, or something, had to crouch! who designed this thing?!), Mumbo birthed himself into the middle of a huge room, filled with warmth and tons of soft things. Right in front of him, separated only by a multicolored braided carpets width, stood a couch, covered so completely in blankets, pillows and clothes- yes, really- it almost lost its original shape. There were two mismatched armchairs, as well- one old looking wicker, that felt more like a cat toy, and one obstructed by yet another pile of blankets. Grian, who’d already taken off his snickers- without untying any laces, how much more can Mumbo take before buying him new ones?- closed the trapdoor and the door, somehow, was somewhere behind him, talking in a baby voice to what Mumbo presumed to be one of his cats, sounding so soft and tender you could almost think it was his first born child. Taking off his nice, polished shoes as well- they were not so polished anymore, and he wanted to throw himself out of the window now, those were brand new \-  fighting of frustration proven to be rather easy, all he had to do was get them out of his face and listen in to Grian bubbling in the background- he went to sit on the least clothes-infested corner of the couch- wow, it was very soft, the blankets were growing on him- and let himself relax. Taking out his inhaler and using it was a muscle memory at this point, and, when he was done, he turned around to his so-completely-unorganized-friend-it-hurts: “Is this what your hospitality looks like?” Grian looked up from where he was half laying on a bed, the softest expression shifting to an unimpressed smirk: “I could’ve pushed you down the stairs, now  that  would be rude, but I greet you properly, let you into my house- feel like home, by the way- and let you sit on the nicest couch ever! What else do you need?”- glaring playfully, Grian stroked his cat like a super villain from the nineties. “A cup of tea would be nice”- Mumbo responded in vain, hands on his hips- “And what you called being hospitable is a bare fucking minimum”. The older man, who has already gotten up, practically flown into the kitchen, and, fumbling with a cattle, looked intently and mischievously at him: “Water or vodka?” Putting on his best stoic face, which, admittedly, wasn’t so good, Mumbo said: “You are a hazard to society”. Grian responded with a simple “As we know it!”, and poured some water from the tap, giggling and doing a small dance- he either jumped a lot, or this, and Mumbo, for the love of him, could not decide which one was cuter- throwing occasional glances at Mumbo and his other cat, who lay like a queen of all that light touches, on a shelf clearly not meant for cats. Not able to hide his amusement, Mumbo looked away and noticed a parrot cage in a corner next to a door that led, presumably, to the bathroom. Now, he knew Grian was basically a zoo keeper, and he knew about the parrot- they did officially meet at a pets shop, where Grian recognized him by a loose description he gave over the internet- but it still felt sudden, especially considering he didn’t hear or see any birds in his vicinity- did it fly off? Turning back to the man, he asked, concerned: “Where’s your bird? I thought you said-“ “Oh, Paul’s probably in the ceiling, somewhere, don’t worry!”- his voice was somewhat strained, and when Mumbo turned back to him, Grian was climbing the counter to get to a cabinet, digging through it with one hand. Widening his eyes, he asked the only question that mattered right now: “How tall are you?” The answer was immediate, jumping of off shorter mans teeth: “5’5” and 6, so 5’6. Why?” Suppressing an amused chuckle, he responded: “You are almost ten inches shorter than me! Sure you don’t need any help with that?” Grian looked at him with a poker face, jumped down without breaking off his gaze, a beautiful box in hand, and said: “It’s not me who’s short. You are just a giraffe, and you know what that means”. “No. What?” What the gremlin said next, tone perfectly even, dead pan expression not fading, sent a little ping of unease through Mumbos entire being: “Tall and defenseless”. He turned away, shoulders shaking a bit, obviously trying to disguise a laugh, putting the box aside for the time being, while the taller man leaned back a little, eyebrows going into his hairline, one more so than the other, tone even: “Well that’s not menacing at all. Are you going to poison me, to fulfill your vendetta against tall people?” That’s what broke Grian, sending him into a fit of giggles, but only after proclaiming ‘Yes!’ rather loudly and excitedly, clutching at his stomach and the counter to stay upright. Mumbo also laughed, any and all worry he had dissipating- no one could be serious, if they giggled like a maniac. Meanwhile, a red cat came to sniff him, so he focused on it, letting it smell his hand and rub against it- he now understood Grians softness from earlier, though dogs were still more of his thing. Letting out a quiet ‘awwww’ when it settled on his knees, he gingerly put his hand on its back, itpurring sweetly, sitting there like the world belonged to it. Getting his head out of the fridge and closing it with a small bang, the cats owner said: “That’s Maui! He’s a sweetheart, isn’t he?” Not looking up from the cat, Mumbo nodded, far too fascinated to rip away even an ounce of attention- Hermits owned cats, of course, but Jelly rarely went away from Scar, Cleos and Stresses pets didn’t leave the rooms their owners lived in, and the ‘everyones’ cat was an asshole to, well, everyone but Tin and Joe, for some reason. Maybe it loved calm people, but than, why didn’t it like Xisuma? Anyways, right now, Mumbo was content with a cat for the first time in his life, and he really didn’t want to ruin the moment. Grian probably understood, chuckling lightly and, from the sound of things, climbing counters once again, for dishes this time, if soft clanking of glass was anything to go by. Too distracted to worry, Mumbo just kept petting Maui, until he heard a tray being put on the coffee table in front of the couch- it was probably one of the least busy surfaces in this house, and it still needed some things to be pushed aside to make enough room- and that caused him to look up, just in time to see Grian grab some clothes and  throw  them onto an armchair, missing it completely and flipping it off, picking them up and dumping them over the armchairs back. Than, he threw himself on the couch next to Mumbo, and made an inviting gesture at the tray: “I had no idea, how you liked your tea, so this DIY kit should suffice!” On said tray- metal, beautifully decorated thing- were carefully arranged three cups, a teapot, a pitcher of milk, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies, so Mumbo felt rightfully confused: “Isn’t this just normal?” Averting his eyes, Grian responder with: “Well, yes, but I could’ve asked”- shrugging and glancing at him at the end, as if expecting him to be upset. Instead of that, which would’ve been, frankly, a bit redundant, Mumbo decided to reassure this ball of self deprecation, masked by a massive ego most of the time: “I would ask for something like this anyway, you’d probably mess it up if I wanted anything more precise”. His tone was light, joking, and he hoped he wouldn’t mess it up- he could be a bit harsh sometimes, without really meaning to. From how Grian let out a breath and turned to pouring himself a cup, happy and relaxed smile in place, saying ‘you know me so well’ in a somewhat mocking voice, he gathered he did okay, and awarded himself with a golden star- Tango sent him one with ‘you tried’ written in comic sans on it after checking his coding for something or other for the first time, and it stuck with him ever since, if only to bother Iskall. He would never forget sending it to him and asking, if it had some secret meaning, receiving a long lecture on internet culture he chose to ignore and pretended to not understand to this day, throwing in occasional me-me or incorrectly used sayings into his messages to the Swede every so often. He’s seen others do it to, not just to Iskall but in general, and that made him feel validated, so that was very cash money- thinking that, he couldn’t help but let out a tiny chuckle, almost spilling some milk in the process. Grian, who was quiet due to drinking tea, looked at him with expression best described as a question mark, so he just shook his head, not sure how to explain he was laughing at ‘cash money’ without sounding like a boomer, and he was lucky with how understanding the other was- sometimes- as the older man focused on his tea again. Careful not to disturb Maui, Mumbo took a sip, relaxing a bit, but keeping his posture straight, and felt himself melt at how good it was, taking another sip right away, not having a chance to speak before Grian put down his cup- empty already- and began: “So. Remember I said I had a secret to tell?” He sounded serious, some lightness still there, but a bit steelier than normal, so Mumbo felt the need to lighten the mood: “Don’t tell me you killed someone and are now on the run, we’d have too much in common”- he was joking, of course, he didn’t think Grian could possibly be a murderer, not unless he was hiding an entirely different persona beneath all this bubbly happiness- which was, admittedly, a bit of a stupid thing to think with people Mumbo saw pretty much everyday being who they are, but still. The way Grian stiffened at that, and the uneasy glance he threw, and how fake his laugh sounded, only reassured Mumbo of stupidity that thought carried- this man was not fake, but probably did kill someone and was, in fact, on the run, and while it was a bit scary, it was almost redundant for Mumbo to act on it. “Uhhhh... Kinda. But I also wanted to say why I think I can tell you that, which is really important for you to know that I know, I think, and maybe we could feel safer with each other, and maybe-“- Mumbo put a hand over his mouth, careful not to touch the bruise False gave him earlier this day- he could not convince Grian to hold the ice pack to it for nearly long enough, they were lucky they lived in a very unassuming town- and put on the most calming expression he could manage: “You figured out something about my life, I see. It’s okay, no need to worry- just tell me what you think”- drawing attention from Grians tragic backstory, something he seemed uncomfortable to share right now, Mumbo retreated the hand, letting the man breathe for a moment, before making an urging sound. Grian smiled, usual up beat tone in place in no time: “So, basically, you’re part of a law-defying organization I know close to nothing about, other than it’s called Hermitcraft and presents as a silly group of friends on Twitter, has a lot of badass people in it, has a snake named Poppy, which automatically makes it very cool, and is like very tight knit, and probably knows I’m a suspicious individual already, if not everything ever, so I think you suspected at least something about me as well?”- ending the sentence in a question and sounding so, so hopeful, he obviously wanted Mumbo to guide him through his confession, which was rather reasonable- Mumbo sorta did the same. Suddenly, a chirrup rang through the air, breaking the tension, as a red bird he didn’t have any skill to identify landed on the table and went to get cookies, which got Grian to snap out of his worries and shoo it away, soft as he always was with animals, than picking it up and closing it in the bathroom, turning back rather awkwardly: “He has toys and some food there, he’ll be fine”. The engineer nodded- he had no doubt Grian was a good pet owner- and than went back to business: “I suspect you were a part of a similar ‘law defying organization’, and that you killed someone and are now on the run”- he did his best to bring a joke into it, it wasn’t as though it was something he never heard of before after all, and seeing this gremlin of a man so tense and  scared felt wrong. Grian let out a startled laugh, looking a lot less terrified: “Yeah, basically”- his tone wasn’t as careless as when he would say the same thing usually, but it was way better than just a second earlier. “Sweet! That explains why we got along so fast! I was loosing sleep about this for ages!”- gesturing wildly, Mumbo hoped the other man could tell it was genuine, thinking it would calm him further- he was rarely the one calming people, but he did know how to do it, more or less. A startled laugh let him know he was right, Grian falling back into his usual self, if a bit more alert: “Technically, I still kinda am- we talk a lot over discord! I still miss them, though, but this is better than the alternative”. He felt himself smile: “You were found out?”- he put on a disgusted face- “Pathetic”. This elected more laughter, as the designer scrunched up his face in offense: “Hey! You told me your friend broke a leg, and if my assumptions are correct, that means you’re worse than us!” “Oh really?”- Mumbo threw a murderous glare his way- “I think you should meet the family. That’ll change your mind rather quickly, dare I say”. Grian grinned: “Where do you live? Cause I’m coming over, and you can’t stop me!”- he’s come really close, hands on Mumbos shoulders, looking very smug. “When I said False was my neighbor, I didn’t lie- we live in an apartment building we modified to suit our needs. It doesn’t have an address, I don’t think, and it’s four stories tall, so you must’ve seen it already- it’s the only tall building in this part of town”. His friends face lit up in recognition, and he freed the innocent shoulders from his- albeit, painless- death grip, straightening up and clapping once: “When can I come round for the biggest shock value? First impressions are very important, after all”. Mumbo was glad to hear mischief take it’s rightful place in Grians voice, and beginnings of a plan started forming in his head. While plotting everyone’s demise with his friend, previous tension entirely forgotten, he realized- a new member was soon to join Hermitcraft, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, assuming they would try in the first place.

Mumbo was fidgeting in his seat, trying not look at the window with anticipation and fear-everyone would be suspicious, if he did, and that would ruin the surprise. So he tried very, very hard not to think about the fourth story window, that was creaked open just enough for a hand to slither through, with a colorful pot standing on the windowsill. His worry, obviously, didn’t go unnoticed- an Iskall sat down on his left, movement careful as not to spook him: “Hey, man. Is everything alright? You seem awfully anxious”. Mumbo looked up from his legs, that were as close as he got to inconspicuously eyeing at lest a bit of a casement, and attempted a smile- he was a bit sick with worry, so it came out horribly strained: “I’m just bothered by the fact I never played D&D before, is all!” Iskall looked at him with mild disbelief, but didn’t press, and for that, Mumbo was thankful- he wasn’t sure he could lie to his best friend of three years, who also happened to be a professional hitman, for much longer than a second, so he went back to staring at his white, translucent socks- at least, pretending to. Impulse passed in front of the window. Mumbo had to hold back a flinch. Grian so owed him now, if he didn’t- don’t think, don’t think, he’s into parkour, he can do this, yes, even in his old ass sneakers- don’t think, don’t think! Mumbo didn’t look around, but he couldn’t hear any walking now- everyone must be situated, than- than where the hell was Grian?! It was definitely beyond 4pm, he should already be here- just as Mumbo started descending into a panic attack, a hand grabbed onto the casement, pulling its owner up for a mop of hair- insanely soft, as Mumbo learned- to become visible, as well as another hand, that pushed the frame up, to make up an opening big enough for a small person. Mumbo tried really hard not to look up from his socks, praying everyone was too engrossed into conversations or watching him to notice Grian push himself inside of the house. Due to this, he more heard than saw him ungracefully fall on the floor- there was a bunch of pillows there, because Mumbo is considerate- with a grunt of pain. Everyone became deathly quiet, and the engineer allowed himself a smile- he doubted there were any eyes on him in the moment. He felt Iskalls hands surround him in a protective gesture, as well as heard False- who was the closest to the window- say: “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” From her tone, as well as more noises of pain, he could tell she was restraining the intruder- he was too scared to give himself away to look. “Isn’t it obvious?”- Grians voice was pained, but playful: “I’m joining the game night- owowowow!” From more stunned silence and half a sob, Mumbo could tell False probably didn’t mean to hurt the designer, and that made him really struggle to hold in a chuckle. “Isn’t it ri-right, Mu-muMumbo!”- his words came our strangled, some gasps for air in between- Falses chokehold was a powerful thing. Mumbo finally looked up, noting the arms around him tightening, and smiled: “Yeah, it is! Now, if Falsy would let you go, I saved a spot for you?”- the hardest part of the speech was not losing his shit over the queens expression, though Mumbo wasn’t sure he hid his hysterics well enough. He retreated his legs, leaving a perfectly comfortable spot beside him, with a tiny piece of paper on one of the pillows, the words ‘Grian Menace’ written on it in calligraphic handwriting. He could both hear and feel Iskall losing his mind behind him, almost sobbing into Mumbos pajamas with laughter, trying not to make it too obvious- and he wasn’t the only one. Grian had already scrambled to his feet and to Mumbos side, trying to keep himself as close as possible, False sitting on the pillows underneath the window and laughing softly, already over her bouleversement- she already met Grian, and knew Mumbo for quite some time now, and this was extremely on brand for both of them. Everyone else kept quiet, until gentle words came cutting through the air from Xisuma himself, summing up how everyone felt in that very moment: “What the fuck”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m kinda proud of this one, even if it was a bit of a pain to write! Hopefully it was at least a little good, or I’ll *falls over* Ah. I don’t even have hands to catch myself with. But yeah, it was fun!


End file.
